


The Quietest Nights

by Meloncholor



Series: Valentine's Month [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Asexual Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I am of the firm belief that Python is asexual (but not aromantic), M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meloncholor/pseuds/Meloncholor
Summary: Python has a few independent missions he has to go on, Forsyth realizes that it's a little strange to do things alone.
Relationships: Fols | Forsyth/Python
Series: Valentine's Month [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618999
Kudos: 15





	The Quietest Nights

Tonight was too quiet. Forsyth understood the needs and demands of the army. Sometimes one man was more efficient than a whole unit. He understands that these missions may be done outside of the knowledge of the other soldiers. But it was a bit harder to accept when he was lying awake in his bed, unable to force himself to sleep without the soft snores of his compatriot soothing him. When you share a room with someone for so long you develop a nightly rhythm, and with theirs broken, Forsyth could feel just how long the night was. He didn’t really miss him, per se. In fact, he was thankful for the absence of his terribly long-winded diatribes about ‘real freedom’ and the nature of his labor here in camp. And his cleanliness need not be spoken of. He sniggers at the thought of the disarray of his armaments, and the countless times Forsyth has had to organize his things just so that they wouldn’t encroach on his side of the room. It’s just not practical, Forsyth thinks. Two people in a room are much harder to sneak up on than one. And with Python not being here, its a tiny bit of safety issue. That’s all. 

With a sigh, Forsyth rolls over to face Python’s bed. His space is devoid of personal effects and possessions (he kept his precious knick-knacks on him at all times) and his bed is woefully unmade as if he had just picked up and left seconds ago. Although, despite his half of the room’s lack of, well anything really, it still had a unique charm that was signifying of Python. Maybe it was the way the sheets never seemed to be tucked in properly, or how the wall was scraped from where the archer would occasionally sharped arrowheads, but any soldier could wander into this room could tell who slept where just from the beds alone. If Forsyth squinted, he could even see the imprint that the other man’s body left behind, curled up beneath the blankets. He chuckles, he really should get on Python about his cleaning habits again. But that’s a conversation for when his companion returns, whenever that may be.

It’s getting late, and Forsyth has a very strict training regimen starting tomorrow morning. He takes one last look at his roommate’s tangled sheets before sighing and turning over. It takes a bit more willpower than normal, but he’s able to drift into a fitful sleep.

-0-

He was lucky the training grounds were designated to the old courtyard, as it was barely a five-minute walk from the barracks. It took him an eternity to fish out and put on all of his clothes, save for his heavy armor. And as his sleep-logged footsteps drag along the stone paving he regrets not going to the mess hall for coffee first. The whole fort is silent as he makes his solo pilgrimage through the barracks to the training area, he doesn’t hear another noise until he’s nearing the courtyard. There’s only one other person that could be awake this early.

Mathilda, as powerful and as poised as ever, is practicing alone with a hay-stuffed dummy, brandishing her newest lance. She’s too lost in her muscle memory to notice him straight away and he’s thankful for it. Even though her lance tactics were completely different in style than that of a heavily armored soldier, the sheer strength and confidence behind each of her strikes was a marvel to watch. The extended blade sliced through the air as she shifted from standard to second position. The circular motion of the blade was steadied by her footwork, and she rattled her static partner with every blow. 

After a few moments of him studying her, he clears his throat. Mathilda freezes mid-strike and snaps her attention to him. Her expression shifts from intense concentration, to a soft, inviting smile. “Oh! Good morning, Forsyth!” She lowers her weapon. “I didn’t see you there! Have you come to train?” Her stance returns to a neutral one and she strides over to weapons rack. The cavalier sets down her lance with a  _ clink _ and leans up against the rough wood.

“Unfortunately for me, yes.” He breathily chuckles. He must have looked ragged, the bags under his eyes were dark and obvious, and even the tone of his voice was rough and sleep-ridden. He goes to pick up one of the training lances, balancing it on his arm to test its weight. If he does look as hellish as he feels, Mathilda doesn’t show it.

“Will Python be joining you today?” Her expression is much more readable since she’s forgone her plate and mail and the way her smile twitches at the corner of her lips makes him uneasy. Python would often be dragged along to Forsyth’s training

“No,” He flips the lance into standard position, squaring his shoulders and his stance to line up with one of the straw dummies. “Alm sent him on a mission yesterday evening.” he strikes forward, jutting beneath the chin of the dummy, before reverting back to the standard position. 

Her expression turns to confusion for only a second before she takes another look at Forsyth and nods. “Oh, I see,” Mathilda whispers. “Are you alright?” 

The question takes him off-guard more than anything, making him twitch in the wrong direction and the ‘blade’ of the training spear crashed into the side of the dummy’s head, knocking it clean off its solid wooden neck. “Ah, shit,” Forsyth grumbles, lowering his weapon. He looks up to Mathilda, who has an expectant look in her eyes. “I-I’m fine I guess.” He forces out a laugh. It seems the answer satisfies her because she nods and gives him a short ‘hmph.’ 

She lets him train in silence after that, save for the occasional encouragement or criticism. But Forsyth’s mind is elsewhere. He didn’t mind Mathilda’s soft guidance, she was one of the most talented women in the garrison, after all, it’s just that he wasn’t used to it. He hates to admit it, but when Python would be dragged with him for training, the archer made a habit of calling out his every minute flaw as they happened and it was...useful. Forsyth would get immediate and discerning feedback for his mistakes, and be able to correct it to avoid the other man’s scorn. Mathilda’s gentle urging to fix his mistakes was a bit counterproductive.

When his muscles are too tired to continue and his core was begging him to rest, he dutifully lowered his weapon again. Mathilda clapped, “Wonderful job Forsyth, you’re improving by leaps and bounds!” He smiles at the gesture. But when he looks up and is able to focus on the scenery around him again he realizes he must have lost track of time. The sun was high in the sky, and the fortress was bustling all along the battlements as soldiers marched to and fro across the high stone walls. It had to be around noon, which means he’s been training for almost six hours. “Mila’s tits…” he whispers so that only he could hear. He whips his head around to Mathilda. “Sorry my lady, I have to leave.” He nods his head and turns before she can answer, tossing aside the training pole and dashing off towards the battlements acutely aware of how starving he is.

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many WIPs its not even real. Not gonna lie, I love the idea of asexual Python and Forsyth being in a relationship. Leave a comment if you like, if you don't, or if you just want to call me a fake gamer girl.


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